Reflections
by AnotherConstellationDies.x
Summary: Usually he stands in front of the mirror, with his boy's clothing, wondering when his reflection will look like himself.


**Hmmyeah. So I was bored and listening to the Mulan soundtrack (Reflections, could you guess?) and I came up with this...thing. I don't know.**

**AU, OOC Feliks. Yay. **

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There's a pair of jeans on the bed. A t-shirt, a hoodie.

A pair of trainers by the door.

But there's also a slimmer pair of jeans. A top, a flower pattern. A cardigan. Endless hair clips.

It's always this choice. And usually it's the first choice that's picked, usually he can pretend that this is what he is comfortable with.

Usually he stands in front of the mirror, with his boy's clothing, wondering when his reflection will look like himself.

Today, however, he chooses the second, and enough makeup to convince himself that he's not who he actually is.

He's about to go out the front door, when suddenly it opens, his father stood there. His mouth falls open, before quickly contorting into a sneer of rage. He's seen this getup before. It infuriates him.

His father closes the door behind them both, slaps him.

He falls to the ground, sobbing. His father steps over him, going upstairs to drown himself in hard liquor.

He, meanwhile, stays there until the phone begins to ring.

His makeup has streamed down his face, his hair sticking to it, itchy and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he pulls himself up, grasping the receiver.

"Hello?"

"H-hi, Feliks." Silence. He's afraid of himself, Feliks can tell. Afraid of what he might say wrong. "It's Toris."

"I know." He always knows when it's Toris. That scared little voice, more terrified than he needs to be. Toris is scared of so many things. Maybe even Feliks.

There is silence, Toris doesn't know what to say. Eventually, he speaks. "D…do you want to come round?"

Feliks sniffs, the first indication that there are still tears streaming down his face. "Like, not really." The words are probably mean, insulting. But Toris knew Feliks too well.

"Alright." He says. There is no indignation in his voice. None visible, at least. "I'll call you later." And somehow, just like that, he knows that Feliks needs someone right now, he knows that Feliks will do anything just to hear a comforting voice. He hasn't had many of those since his mother left.

"Thank you, Toris." He says softly, a hand coming up to feel the swelling of his cheek.

"It's nothing." Toris says. He's the first to hang up, as ever, always keen to get out of any sort of phone call.

Feliks replaces the receiver, looking around the room. The curtains are closed, as they always are. His father is ashamed of him, and doesn't want the outside world to see.

Feliks goes back upstairs, changes into the clothes society prefers him in. He goes into the bathroom, washing the makeup off his face, pulling a brush through his slightly tangled hair.

When his face is bare, his hair deemed acceptable, he knocks on the door to his father's bedroom. There is no answer but he opens the door anyway, not looking as he leans slightly inside. "I'm sorry." He murmurs, not looking at his father.

An indignant snort. "It's not like you're going to stop."

Feliks hesitates, and eventually shakes his head. "I guess you're right." He closes the door before his father can throw a liquor bottle at him.

Toris calls again, but Feliks doesn't tell him what has happened. He is too scared, too scared that Toris will laugh, or reject him.

The next day, when Feliks gets home from school, his father has thrown away all the clothes that ever meant anything to him. Even the hair clips, they're all gone.

His father takes him to the barber's, has his hair cut short.

Feliks doesn't argue, doesn't struggle. He watches locks of his hair fall to the ground.

The next day, with boy's hair and boy's clothes, he goes to school. They laugh at him for trying too hard to be like them, be normal. Everyone laughs except Toris.

Toris, who is new to school, Toris who hasn't heard the rumours. Toris smiles, tells him he likes his haircut.

Feliks just nods amidst the taunting and the laughter.

The months pass, and nothing gets easier. The only good thing is that Feliks' hair is getting longer, it inches down his face as the weeks go by, and he feels like he's not going to listen to his father.

He goes out and spends most of his money on clothes that are most definitely not for men.

His father is on a 'business trip'. That's what he calls it. Feliks doesn't care, and the clothes in the back of his wardrobe are still a secret.

His father leaves, and Feliks almost smiles.

A skirt, dark tights, a top, a cardigan. Hair clips.

He doesn't know where he plans to go, exactly. He wishes he had someone to go with, because suddenly he's scared and feels rather vulnerable.

But he cannot ignore how right he feels, he feels happier, and it puts a little smile on his face.

Nevertheless, he's brought a coat with him, not just because it's getting cold. Because it is large and hides a very much unfeminine body.

Feliks just wanders the streets, revelling in the fact that no one is staring at him, or avoiding staring at him. He rounds the corner, and Toris is stood there.

Toris looks at him. Recognises him.

Feliks turns and runs.

There are tears streaming down his face when he gets home. He slams the door shut behind him, mourning the loss of someone else dear to him.

It's almost two hours later when there's a knock at the door. Feliks, still dressed as he was, makeup smudged, is hesitant to answer.

But when he does, he regrets it.

Toris is stood there anxiously. "It really was you." He says softly. Feliks looks away, ashamed with himself. There is silence, terrible, suffocating silence. Eventually, Toris speaks. "Can I come in?"

Feliks just shrugs, standing to the side to let him in. Toris moves into the darkened living room. Feliks shuts the door.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Toris asks gently. Feliks, head down, shoulders hunched, refuses to look at him.

"You, like, wouldn't have come back if I did."

Silence as Toris takes this information in. "Who said that?" He asks, daring to step a little closer. "You shouldn't have hidden this from me." Feliks closes his eyes, ashamed of himself. He's a little afraid that Toris might hit him, or call on some immensely bigger guy to hit him. "I…I think you look beautiful."

Feliks snaps his head up to look at him. "What?" He asks sharply.

Toris shifts his weight from one foot to another. "You look beautiful."

Tears well up in Feliks' eyes. "You, like, don't mean that."

"I do." Toris' voice is soft, sure of itself. "You look like a girl. A beautiful one."

Feliks shakes his head. "Don't do this, Toris. Get out of here before people find out you were friends with a disgusting little tranny like me."

"No!" Toris suddenly shouts, shocking the both of them. "I'd never do that! Can't you understand, I'm in love with you!" Feliks' eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything. "And I'll love you however you dress, I don't care!" He steps closer, gently lifting his hand, placing it on Feliks' cheek. Feliks moves away, but the hand follows. "You shouldn't be ashamed."

"But I am. If I were to, like, be myself, my dad would kill me, and then die of a broken heart from having such a lousy son."

Toris laughs gently. "Don't be melodramatic."

"I'm not." Feliks says. "I've tried to hide it. I really have, but it's like, difficult." He straightened up, gazing at the little mirror on the wall. "But I don't recognise this person. Not yet."

Toris moves to stand behind Feliks, so they are both in the mirror. They look good, side by side. They look right. "If you were yourself you'd break your father's heart. But if you weren't, I think you'd break mine."

Feliks grins momentarily at the cheesiness of it all, and suddenly Toris is spinning him around, and without hesitation leaning down to kiss him. Feliks' eyes widen but he doesn't pull away, because he wants this too, he's always wanted this with Toris.

When Toris pulls back, his mouth has got lipgloss on it. Feliks laughs, throwing his arms around Toris.

A happy silence.

"I look like a girl?" Feliks asks, Toris' arms wrapping around his waist, holding him close.

"Yeah." Toris replies, resting his chin on Feliks' head. "You're my girl."

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**oh god the fluff it's everywhere get it off get it off**


End file.
